Forty Things
by silveris
Summary: Forty things a girl would die for, according to Draco Malfoy. [DHr] Romance, humor, fluff galore!
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Forty Things**

Author: Silveris

Rating: R

Status: One-shot

Genre: Romance, kinda fluffy

Summary: The forty things a girl would die for. DHr.

AN/Disclaimer: HP is not mine, but if JKR gave it to me, I'd gladly accept. The list isn't mine, either. I came across it at my Friendster bulletin and though, 'Oooh, this is a good idea for a DHr fic...'

OOO

Draco Malfoy never cleaned up clutter.

What were house-elves for? He didn't get them for a hundred galleons in Knockturn Alley for nothing.

Hermione Granger thought otherwise. She actually sent the house-elves in a vacation, threatening them with clothes if they refused. So off the little ugly creatures went, leaving the flat in a messy state.

Hermione had ordered Draco to clean up as she was going outside to buy dinner.

And he knew that if the flat was still as messy when she left, he was going to bed without dinner…and without some…

So as he stuffed dirty laundry into the hamper, he mumbled incoherent curse words.

Hermione had hinted that the messiest corner was their closet. She clearly wanted him to start there. Grudgingly, Draco wrenched the closet door open and clicked the light on. The bulb flickered for a few seconds, and then steadied, giving off a sickly pale light.

Change light bulb, he thought, making a mental note for himself.

His eyes swept the whole closet. It was big. They had lots of clothes…_he_ had lots of clothes. And they were all piled up haphazardly. Hermione's were neatly hung in one corner, and under them were her shoes. All blacks, browns, and whites arranged in an orderly line.

So he was surprised to find a wayward pair, sitting close to his large black loafers. They were pink and had high heels. He had never seen Hermione wear them.

_Probably a present from her girl friends_, he thought.

He was about to take it and put it next to her white sneakers when his eyes caught a crinkled piece of yellow notepad paper lodged inside the shoe. Gingerly, he squatted on the floor and pulled the paper out and slowly began to unfold it, smoothing it over the carpeted floor.

It was written by his own hand, he saw. Curious, he glanced at the thick black heading and whispered as he read, "Forty Things –DM."

He stole a quick glance at the long list under the title and at once, his face lit up and a small slow "Ah!" escaped his lips. He grinned and shifted position so he was comfortably sitting on the floor of the dimly-lit closet.

He scanned the list and his grin grew even wider.

He was holding in his hand the list that he wrote a year ago, when he had just started dating Hermione Granger. The Forty Things List—the things he did that he knew Hermione liked.

With the feeling of butterflies fluttering gleefully in his stomach, he read the list.

_Touch her waist._

_Give her your jacket._

_Hug her._

_Hold her when she's cold…so she can hold you, too._

He and Hermione were walking in the park while Crookshanks went to chase squirrels. It was five in the morning, freezing, silent.

"I don't know how you can stand the cold," she muttered beside him.

"Hm?" He was busy keeping track of Crookshanks, which had now started to claw its way up a tree.

"Aren't you cold?" she asked, rubbing her arms to prove a point. He looked at her and noted her flushed cheeks, and the sharp intakes of breath. Her lips appeared chapped and dry.

He couldn't see why she was complaining now. She insisted to join him in his early morning stroll; he didn't force her. In fact, he even told her to go back to sleep. But she ignored him and got up, pulling on one of his black shirts and her jogging pants. When they were outside the door, he pressed that she really should just stay in the flat and prepare breakfast. But stubborn as she was, she shook her head and dragged him towards the street.

He turned back to the trees. "I told you so," he said quietly, though not soft enough for her to miss.

He heard her huff in irritation. When he turned his attention back to her, she had her arms crossed tightly around her. She stopped walking and was looking peeved. She was staring at the distance.

Sighing, Draco slowly shrugged his Quidditch jacket off and held it out to her.

She merely looked at him, irritation still in her eyes, and ignored his offer. She was obviously annoyed that he didn't tell her how cold the outside would be. She missed the warmth of their flat.

"Come on, Jane, you know you want it," he said, smiling slightly. He noticed her flinch a bit when he used her middle name.

Still, she ignored him. She was being a prat this time.

"Hermione, take it," he said again, after a while, wagging the jacket in her direction. He had taken a more serious tone now.

"Take the damn jacket, Granger."

Surprised at his usage of her last name again, she turned to tell him where to shove his jacket, but was surprised when he snaked his arms around her waist gently.

Automatically, her own arms wrapped around his torso in a tight embrace. She was drawn to his warmth, and to have him so close was comforting…too comforting. And she liked it.

Slowly, her eyes began to close. She was sleepy and cold, she couldn't help it. And Draco's musky cologne wasn't helping either. She just wanted to bury her face on his neck.

She felt the warm leather of Draco's jacket around her shoulders, but she didn't really care anymore…

_Smile with her._

_Take pictures with her._

_Pull her onto your lap._

Click! Click!

Draco looked up from his copy of The Daily Prophet and—

"Ow! What the hell—"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

"Damn, my eyes!"

"I'm really, really sorry!"

Draco rubbed his eyelids and blinked rapidly. There were white spots in front if his eyes, but they were slowly beginning to vanish.

Hermione was kneeling on the couch beside him, her Polaroid camera beside her. She looked worriedly at him.

She had been clicking away at everything with her new camera. It was a birthday present from Dean Thomas to Ginny Weasley, but Ginny, apparently, didn't want it ("Or didn't know how to use it," Draco suggested last night). So the camera was passed on the nearest Muggle—Hermione.

"Geez, I told you to turn the flash off!" he exclaimed, although not angry.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered again. Gently, she cupped his face in her hands and stared into his deep silver eyes. "Are you alright now?"

He nodded, smiling slightly. Pleased, she smiled back and quickly planted a kiss on his lips.

There was another flash, but this time, it was Hermione who was caught by surprise. Draco had seized the camera and had taken a picture when she leaned in.

"Nice," he said, looking smug. She slapped his arm but he only stuck his tongue out at her.

Quite easily, Draco single-handedly pulled her to sit on his lap, turning her so her back was to him, and held the camera in front of them.

"Smile, babe," he whispered, just before he took the picture.

_Tell her she's beautiful, not sexy._

_When you are alone, hold her close and kiss her._

_Hug her from behind._

"What are you grinning at, Malfoy?" Ron asked, menacingly pointing his wand at Draco.

"Ron, put your wand away," Harry warned, although his threatening look was directed at someone else...

The scene wasn't supposed to look funny. All three of them were seated on the couch in the living room of Hermione's parent's house. Harry and Ron were dressed as the Grim Reaper and Spider-Man, while Draco was in a white shirt and pants.

Harry looked positively frightening in his black robes, ashen face, and scythe. He looked like a Death Eater, in Draco's opinion. Who would've thought that the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Destroy-Evil would be dressed as one? And to look good in it, too…

Ron looked ridiculous. The Spider-Man outfit was obviously too tight. And stuffy. Draco wondered how on earth Ron could survive ten minutes in the thing. Well, at least, the Freckled One removed the suffocating mask. If he hadn't, Draco would've made it his business to poke air holes using the redhead's wand for the mouth and nose. He didn't particularly enjoy staring at the dying image of Ron Weasley.

People might think he murdered the git while Harry wasn't looking.

And as for Draco, since he was going to be Angel…all he had to wear were his pants, shoes, and really large fake white wings, ones which he didn't have to wear at once. The wings were currently in the car. He considered himself lucky.

_Girls are going to fawning all over me tonight_, he thought deviously.

Draco blinked once and uncrossed his legs, planting his feet firmly on the floor.

"I haven't got pockets, Harry, if you must know," Ron hissed.

"Why'd you bring your wand in the first place? It's not like you're going to need it."

"_He_'s coming along. Of course I should bring my wand. Didn't _you_?"

"No, Ron. We are going to a twelve-year-old's costume party—"

"Well, why can't we be clowns?"

"Because clowns are creepy! I told you that. And the kids agree, Hermione said."

"Why do I have to be this spider bloke? Look at it," Ron gestured to the spider logo on his chest wildly. "It looks alive! Harry, you know I _hate_ spiders!"

"You want to trade costumes?" Harry asked.

"Hah! Fat chance! I would never dress in a Death Eater's cloak!" Ron exclaimed huffily.

Draco was about to say something but Hermione stepped out of her room dressed in a simple white and light green top and skirt. Her hair fell in elegant curls on her back, making her look positively radiant. He was speechless for a few moments.

"Hey, how come you're not wearing a costume?" Ron immediately demanded.

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione said, smiling.

"Well, at least you look good, Hermione," Harry said, taking her hand and kissing it. She blushed and thanked him. She missed the slight twitch in Draco's face.

"I guess that's two of us showing off our curves," Ron continued, grinning wildly.

Draco fought the urge to laugh and throw up. Curves? Honestly!

Apparently, Harry was thinking the same thing as Draco because he made a show of letting his oversized hood fall over his face. Draco knew Harry was laughing silently.

Hermione just numbly nodded. "Riiiiight," she said and handed a set of keys over to Harry, who had already regained composure.

"Here, Harry, you two go ahead to the car," she instructed. "I'm going to call my aunt's, tell her we're coming."

Harry dragged Ron to the door, the latter mumbling about leotards and dresses.

Hermione stalked over the phone and began to dial a number, but she never finished because Draco had suddenly wrapped his arms around her from behind. Her body began to stiffen as he rested his head on her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair.

She could tell that he was closing his eyes as he ever so slowly swayed her gently on her spot.

"You're beautiful, you know that?" he whispered huskily. His arms tightened their hold on her waist for a moment then loosened as his hands gently held her by the hips.

She swallowed hard. Her knees felt weak.

She hardly noticed when one of his hands traveled up her body, skimming her waist, the side of her breast, her arm, her neck. The hand nudged her head to the side, and then their lips connected.

Slowly, softly, he kissed her, angling his head down for better access. He nibbled her lower lip gently, running his tongue across its pink suppleness. She tasted sweet and he knew it wasn't her strawberry lip balm. He could feel her ragged breath on his cheek as his hands began to roam all over her body—squeezing her breasts so he could feel her hardened nipples, running a path along the skin under her top, lightly grazing a palm between her legs…

Then she slowly pulled away. He didn't protest. She ran a hand through her hair and sheepishly smiled at him.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"No, it's okay. A little energizer before we deal with pre-teens," she said, her voice almost breaking. She was still in the process of trying to breathe normally.

"I think I should go check on the two," he said. She nodded and watched as he jogged towards the door.

She licked her lips as the door closed behind him.

OOO

TBC.

AN: Oh, don't worry. This won't be left to rot. I've finished the whole thing and just divided them into four parts. I have this thing with loooong entries.

The house-elves from Knockturn Alley bit was an ode to Caprigrrl Lannoire's My Life as a House-Elf.

Angel from X-Men looked too good to ignore, so I added him in. And come on, we all agree that he is a grown-up!Draco…


	2. Chapter 2

Title: **Forty Things (2/4)**

Author: Silveris

Rating: R

Status: Complete, but two posts for now

Genre: Romance, kinda fluffy

Summary: The forty things a girl would die for, according to Draco Malfoy. DHr.

AN/Disclaimer: HP is not mine, but if JKR gave it to me, I'd gladly accept. The list isn't mine, either. I came across it at my Friendster bulletin and thought, 'Oooh, this is a good idea for a DHr fic...'

OOO

Draco was growing uncomfortable of sitting on the dusty closet floor, so after lining up the stray pink shoe with the rest of Hermione's sensible footwear, he padded over to the bed and flopped down on the messed up sheets.

Immediately, he resumed his perusal of the list.

_11. Call her at night to wish her sweet dreams._

_12. Message her in the morning and tell her to have a good day at work and how much you miss her._

_13. Always remind her how much you love her._

_14. Tell her the way you feel about her._

"Hello?"

"Hermione?"

"Draco?"

"Do you know how hard it is to find a phone in this part of Sofia?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Glad you asked."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's okay," Hermione laughed. "How's your trip coming?"

He sighed. "So-so."

"Really? Having fun?"

"Yeah," he drawled. "I guess. I mean, it's Quidditch. It's fun."

Silence.

"What time is it there?" he suddenly asked.

Hermione glanced at her wrist watch, the silver one he got her a week ago, the one he wants her to always wear. "Almost ten."

"You should sleep now," he said. "Wouldn't want you to have eyebags." There was a slight chuckle in his tone.

"But I still have lots of papers to sign. Maybe in half an hour."

"No, go to sleep _now_."

"Are you ordering me?"

"Yes."

"Git."

"Kid."

Hermione stuck out her tongue at the receiver, as if he'd see her.

"Go to sleep, babe. Or I'll send my owl over to peck you to death," he said jokingly.

"Alright, alright. Going to sleep in ten minutes," she said irritatingly.

There was another pregnant pause, and then, "Good night."

"You too. Whatever time it is there."

"Sleep tight."

"Okay."

"Sweet dreams."

"I'll dream of you."

And another few seconds of silence.

"Babe?"

"Hm?"

"Olive juice."

She smiled and nodded. "Ditto."

Then she put down the receiver.

…A few hours later…

Hermione stomped over to the half-open window where a black eagle owl waited, incessantly tapping the glass.

It was not even six in the morning yet, and Hermione was already cranky. Who in the hell would send an owl at such an ungodly hour?

Grudgingly, she opened the window fully and watched as the owl fluttered in and landed on top of the lamp, which was giving out a soft light. It looked at Hermione curiously and then stretched out its leg so she could pull out the rolled up parchment attached.

Squinting because her eyes hadn't adjusted to the dim brightness yet, she slowly untied the knot and unrolled the parchment.

_Hey babe_

She rolled her eyes. Draco.

_Meeting's going well. I expect we'll be able to close a deal a day early. Despite the wonders of Bulgaria, something here just doesn't feel right, and I would be glad of an excuse to leave soon._

Hermione began to wonder what the problem was.

_Of course, after two days here, seeing the same old faces of Quidditch blokes and their managers, you'd think I'd be in Man Heaven…or if I were a girl…whatever._

She chuckled lightly. She could almost hear him speak…

_I do hope Fate gives you better days at the Ministry, since I seem to be getting the bad ones. I think it's only fair, right?_

_Anyway, I soon figured out why I'm just not into this trip._

Hermione bent down and lifted the parchment closer to the light. Draco had written the next line in tiny handwriting. But when she finally made it out, she couldn't stop the smile that spread across her drowsy features. She felt awake now. And her heart just skipped a dozen beats.

_I miss you. Terribly. Just as much as olive juice._

_Take care._

_Draco_

Draco wondered where she put his letter. He made another mental note to clean the closet thoroughly, in case he would run in to one of her Letters boxes.

_15. Take her for long walks at night._

_16. When walking next to each other, grab her hand._

_17. Kiss her on the tip of her nose; it will give her the hint that you want to kiss her._

_18. Kiss her on the lips._

"Isn't this better?" he asked.

"I don't know. It's just as cold as morning," she replied.

They were walking through the park, but this time, it was at night. And Crookshanks was safely locked in the flat.

Hermione learned her lesson and had brought her own coat. The night was chilly and eerie—there were no other people in sight. It was awfully quiet, too. All she could hear was the rhythmic chirping of crickets, but even that seemed too silent.

It was like she and Draco were the only two human beings left in the world.

She zipped up her jacket and darted her eyes left and right. Nothing weird was about to happen, she knew. It was just the surrounding that was peculiar. There weren't even snoggers by the bushes.

"Are you cold?" he asked again.

"A bit."

They continued to walk in silence, their path illuminated by a few lampposts. A squirrel wandered by the path ahead of them, and as it studied the nearing couple's faces, it squeaked and scrambled back up its tree. Draco reckoned it was the squirrel that Crookshanks fancied, but he didn't voice this out to Hermione.

An owl hooted at the distance.

The sudden sound caused Hermione to jerk a bit. Automatically, without any thought at all, Draco reached over and laced his nimble fingers with her small cold ones.

She stiffened a bit and then her grip softened. He felt her rub her palm against his, hoping to get friction to heat them up. He responded by tightening his hold, trapping the warmth between them.

Draco then felt sudden moisture on the tip of his nose. And another one on his forehead.

He looked up and realized it was beginning to drizzle.

"Damn," he whispered before he tugged on Hermione's hand and pulled her towards the squirrel's tree.

As soon as they were sheltered under the protective branches and leaves of the tree, the drizzle started to pick up speed.

"Great. I was hoping it was going to rain on a cold night," he said sarcastically, staring hard at the now wet path.

Hermione giggled and then reached for his face. He turned his attention towards her, locking eyes. But she blushed a bit, turned away, stopped giggling and proceeded to wipe away the droplets of rain from his forehead and cheek.

He watched her concentrate on her task. She was trying hard not to stare back at him. He knew she could feel his penetrating gaze—she was still blushing and he could feel her hot breath against his face.

He continued to stare at her face. She was perfect. Beautiful. His.

She had the softest, most capturing brown eyes that, with one look, could melt his heart into a lovesick puddle of goo. Her cute button nose was the victim of his playful pinching, which she didn't really appreciate. And as much as he wanted to kiss and caress her plump rosy cheeks, he wanted to spend more time attached to her full pink lips instead.

Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed a droplet from the tip of her nose.

She pulled her head back a fraction in shock. He didn't notice, because he finally made her look into his eyes.

And that was all he needed before he held her face in his hands and planted his lips firmly against hers.

She was caught by surprise that she didn't know what she was doing at first. Hungrily, he kissed her with a force that knocked the breath out of her. His lips moved demandingly against her at first, but slowly eased after a few seconds. It wasn't long until she actually put her own pressure into it. He responded by brushing his tongue across her bottom lip, asking for invitation.

Willingly, she opened her lips more and allowed his tongue to caress her own. He explored the cavern of her mouth, tasting her strawberry sweetness and welcoming her softness….

…Draco knew he had to wrench his thoughts away from that memory, or he wasn't going to do anything much all afternoon except read the list and wank.

So he moved on to the next items…

OOO

TBC.

AN: Oh, don't worry. This won't be left to rot. I've finished the whole thing and just divided them into four parts. I have this thing with loooong entries.

And the olive juice part? You'd have to read Persephone-Granger's "Pineapple, Yum! Or oh, Coconut!" wink wink Oh, alright, I won't be evil. If you look in the mirror and say "olive juice", it looks like "I love you." Get it? Cool.

And the "ditto" is so Ghost (y'know, the movie with Demi Moore, Whoopi Goldberg and that ghost guy).


End file.
